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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27950732">ghostyinnit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/summer_rising/pseuds/summer_rising'>summer_rising</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alive Technoblade, Alive Wilbur Soot, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Modern Setting, No Beta We Die Like L'Manbergians, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Talking To Dead People, a lot of my analogies involve violence i am So Sorry, basically... tommy is mcfuckin dead n tubbo finds a ghost pal, henry is here and mauled a guy in the woods, hes a feral cow pensive emoji fist emoji, not minecraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:53:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,489</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27950732</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/summer_rising/pseuds/summer_rising</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a couple hundred feet away from the break in the treeline where he found it; A wooden figurine of a cow was half-buried under leaf mulch and dirt, delicately carved with flowers on its back and around its horns, doleful eyes peering up at Tubbo with chipped black paint. He didn’t know how he managed to notice it. It was the same color as the leaves, yellow and bright, though a little bit paler where the sunlight had shone down on it and bleached the colors, and about the size of his palm.</p><p>He took one look at it and scooped it up to pocket. It was cold, so very cold, which startled him so bad he almost dropped it, but he calmed down and began to brush the dirt off as gently as he could whilst he continued his walk down the beaten path.</p><p>He blamed the feeling of being watched on the realistic eyes of the cow.</p><p>//</p><p>Tubbo takes over a house from a family member who very much does not want the supposedly haunted place. Tubbo doesn't mind, because hey, free house. Picking up the ghost of his friends' dead brother along the way was very much not in the initial plan.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>228</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. schmovin in</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello hello HELLO, what is UP gamers, wonderful night we're having, it is 10 am and I have sat in bed for the past 2 hours speedrunning a ghost fic. yes this is gonna be multichaptered, no i do not have a plan for it, yes i know i have a fic i should be updating, no i do not have any motivation to work on that other one. its ghost time bitches and hoes</p><p>(copied from my notes of writing the first chapter): this work is completely fictional and is in no way meant to represent the actual ccs as they are irl!! this is based off of personas and rps. its set in a slightly irl setting, but this is shaped wholly around the personas and is not to be interpreted as how i think the ccs act off-screen :)</p><p>at the time of posting this first chapter im already working on the second, so keep ur eyes peeled WIDE tf open for that if u enjoy this first bit, por favor</p><p>tws/cws (will update as the fic comes along):<br/>swearing, talks of violence throughout the fic, tommy's fuckin dead rip</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first sign that this autumn was going to be completely and utterly scuffed was when Tubbo made the choice to spend the entire fall season away from home at an old place one of the family members he didn’t know the name of owned. All of the owners of the house thus far had died before the age of sixty and was beginning to get a reputation both in-town and out that it was either cursed, haunted, disease-ridden, or all three. The wood was constantly creaking, the air conditioning constantly smelled like something had curled up and died inside of it, there were rumors that a feral cow lived out just past the tree line and had mauled one of Tubbo’s great uncles when the man went to go and try to catch it.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo, of course, interpreted this as </span>
  <em>
    <span>free house</span>
  </em>
  <span> and jumped on the opportunity to take it off of the current owner’s hands. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>probably</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t legal, given that he was a sixteen-year-old taking over without any sort of supervision (or company at all), but the woman whom he was eighty percent sure was his aunt did not seem to care at all for the legality of it. She just wanted the property gone from her sights and mind.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prospect of a completely empty two-story home just on the outskirts of a backwater town in the middle of nowhere was simultaneously terrifying and exciting. He would have his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own place</span>
  </em>
  <span> to live, free to scream and stay up and buy whatever foods he wanted in the moment, stream whenever the hell he felt like it, invite his friends over without having to check with his parents first… But, at the same time, it was the perfect set up for some serial murder to emerge from the woodwork and stab the shit out of him before disappearing into the darkness and leaving his body to rot without anyone to find him for… weeks, at least. Still, in his mind, the allure of independence overruled the anxiety at the back of his mind…<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which lead him to this exact moment. Rolling suitcase in hand, taxi rumbling quietly behind him, the sun setting somewhere out in the forest bathing the home in reds, pinks, and orange, he stared up at the dingy windows and thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Man, this is gonna be fun.<br/><br/></span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>//<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not having fun.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” He breathed through clenched teeth, one hand tangled in his hair, the other tapping at the side of his mouse, “Are you fucking serious?”<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blue screen on his computer continued to mock him with its stupid little frowny face above the error message. <br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna lose my shit. I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>genuinely</span>
  </em>
  <span> gonna lose my shit.” With a huff, he pushed off from his desk, the only finished part of the house, wheels spinning on hardwood flooring as he rolled his way over to his bed. His phone was by his pillow, pulled into his charger, but he had at least 50%, so he unplugged it and used his feet to propel himself back in the direction of his desk. <br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as his pin was typed in, he made his way to Discord, aimlessly checking notifications while he waited for his computer to restart for the third time that night.<br/><br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <b>wiblur sood</b>
  
  <b>Today at 1:33 AM<br/></b>
  <span>call me when you get a chance, i wanna see ur place<br/></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been about an hour ago. Why Wilbur was still awake, Tubbo had no clue, though he had no room to judge. Still, it was the principal of the matter, or whatever.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <b>toob   Today at 2:21 AM<br/></b>
  <span>r u still awake ?<br/></span>
  <span>am here<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <b>wiblur sood   Today at 2:23 AM<br/></b>
  <span>hell yeah bro<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>wiblur sood started a call.<br/><br/></em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Wil!” Tubbo greeted as soon as the call connected. His lights were still on (he had a habit of falling asleep if they were off), so he turned his camera on like he knew Wilbur would ask him to and did a little wave. There was a slight pause as Wilbur fumbled to get his own camera on, then Tubbo was gifted the sight of Wilbur’s bedroom ceiling.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ayy, Tubbo, what’s good, man? You settling in alright?”<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you can call me sitting here praying to all the gods I can think of that my computer isn’t broken ‘settling in’, yeah. Otherwise, I haven’t done much, just set up my bedroom and put some knick-nacks in the living room.”<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit, your computer messed up? What’s wrong with it?” There was shuffling from the other end of the call as Wilbur flipped his camera and sat up, hair sticking up every which way, rubbing his face to try and keep his eyes open.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure,” Tubbo replied, glancing over at the now-grey monitor, “But it’s not looking good, I think.”<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s rough, man.”<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh. It’s not like I had much to do with it right now, since I put streaming on halt to get this place fixed up a little bit, so it’s not like it’ll be a fatal blow to me or anything. Worst comes to worst I can break out my old laptop or try and get a new one when I go into town over the next few days.”<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm? What kinda stuff are you gonna get while you’re out?”<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cleaning supplies, mostly, maybe some more trinkets ‘n shit to decorate with, some paint for the walls, some better lighting. The old owners really fuckin’ hated this place, said the entire property’s haunted, so it’s in a bit of a tight spot, but it’s not completely unsalvageable. I really wanna get some string lights to hang up all over the place, it’s got this whole wooden vibe going on and I think putting them in the living room and out on the front porch would look really cool with it.”<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh?” Amusement wove its way in-between the tired tone in Wilbur’s voice.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Tubbo said, popping the p, “Plus, I wanna get some potted plants, like, some really tall ones, those could go out on the porch as well, and then some smaller ones for the kitchen and bathrooms. The colors are all faded from no-one taking care of it, so I was thinking I could paint over it. I feel like orange tones would look really nice, but blue could do good as well.”<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur laughed lightly, running a hand through his hair and tilting his head back to relax his neck. “You’ve really thought all this out, huh? You plan on staying there for that long?”<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… Kinda? I mean, it’s a really good house, regardless of some shit about it being haunted or cursed… I see no reason why I wouldn’t keep it, now or in the future.” Tubbo smiled, a flash of a thought coming to mind; Wilbur, Techno, Philza, Tubbo, all sat around a table in the dining room, sipping at mugs, softly blinking lights basking the room in warm oranges, the sun peeking through the trees outside, fireplace crackling to keep out the warmth of a winter morning.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, kid, you’ve got your life all set up before you’ve even his seventeen, I feel fucking scammed.”<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo laughed right along with Wilbur, chair cool against his back, the scene still playing on loop in his mind’s eye.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>//<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day, Tubbo woke up at 11 AM, made himself some leftover chicken because there was no-one around to tell him that wasn’t a good breakfast, changed into a green button-up and too-big jeans, shoved some cash into his wallet, and made his out towards the town.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only a little ways away, not the typical definition of “walking distance” but not nearly long enough to warrant calling an Uber- Plus, the afternoon was gorgeous, enough shade provided by the trees to stay cool but enough warmth from the sun to keep from getting chilly. There was a faint breeze tugging at the yellowed leaves on the ground, and while Tubbo was tempted to jump from leaf to leaf and listen to the crunching, he soon discovered that the ground was too damp and that they were all the shitty soft ones. He was left with a vague sense of disappointment after that.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a couple hundred feet away from the break in the treeline where he found it; A wooden figurine of a cow was half-buried under leaf mulch and dirt, delicately carved with flowers on its back and around its horns, doleful eyes peering up at Tubbo with chipped black paint. He didn’t know how he managed to notice it. It was the same color as the leaves, yellow and bright, though a little bit paler where the sunlight had shone down on it and bleached the colors, and about the size of his palm.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took one look at it and scooped it up to pocket. It was cold, so very cold, which startled him so bad he almost dropped it, but he calmed down and began to brush the dirt off as gently as he could whilst he continued his walk down the beaten path.</span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He blamed the feeling of being watched on the realistic eyes of the cow.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. a book and a story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yooo imma be honest, this is mostly just filler. i didn't wanna jump RIGHT into the ghost stuff, buuuuut i figure that'll all get started in the next chapter :),, probably. maybe. not entirely sure yet</p>
<p>sorry if the formatting's a little scuffed, still tryna figure that part out, google docs to ao3 does not just copy-paste v well</p>
<p>(i spent 10 minutes researching fall-timed flowering bushes in the uk n then i turned right around and refused to do the most basic research for a school essay. priorities)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The town looked like something straight out of a Hallmark coming-of-age movie, in Tubbo’s totally professional opinion. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Half-colored trees lined the streets, leaves not quite dead enough to fall, not quite green enough to withstand a strong breeze. Hibiscus bushes dotted themselves in-between the individual trees, buds half-bloomed and hidden behind the leaves. Tubbo’s fingers itched with the urge to pick one, but he had nowhere to put it as of now, so he left the bushes be. Locally-owned stores lined the streets, people bustling in and out of them as they went about early Christmas shopping. He made note of which ones were more frequented as “town favorites”.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One store in particular caught his eye as he made his way towards the town center; Various figurines lined the display window, alongside books and journals and decorative kitchenware. The lighting was fluorescent white and the floors dipped down below the entrance to make the ceilings look taller. Tubbo almost passed it by as just another variety store, up until a particular book caught his eye- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Investigations of the Paranormal</span>
  </em>
  <span>.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, Tubbo had seen books like that before many a time. Hell, he’d even read one when he was bored out of his mind in the school library at one point. They were almost always complete shams, in his opinion, only having some semblance of truth when they would dissect the scenes of the hauntings with unbiased observation. Even then, he was nothing but skeptical, and would usually discard the books after a while regardless. His mother was an avid believer that there were things in this world beyond their understanding, and while Tubbo didn’t necessarily </span>
  <em>
    <span>disagree</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he also… didn’t agree.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about the house he had moved into, though, had rekindled that faint spark he had had as a child, back when his mother would tell him stories about how she had once woken up with a cat’s claw marks across her chest despite not owning a cat, or visiting an uncle’s farm only to be kept awake at night by a pair of eyes in the window, and he would sit there and soak it up like a sponge to water and wonder if one day he’d be able to have experiences that he could tell around a campfire or while tucking someone into bed.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he was gonna get haunted, he might as well have some vague string of knowledge to prepare himself with.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>//<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The book was relatively thin and paperback. Tubbo resolved to just carry it with him until he actually needed a bag from somewhere else during his shopping trip. There was something about carrying it openly that made his skin crawl, though, so he was a lot more relieved than he felt he should’ve been when he left the hardware store with a reusable bag he had impulse-grabbed, the book shoved in-between a hand-sized scrub brush and a pamphlet of different paint themes and color samples. His loose plan was to clean first, then sit on call with Wilbur and pick out paint colors, then go back and get the paint and decorations. Not very solid, he’d admit, but it was better than nothing.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The breeze had gotten worse, now, leaves effortlessly detached from their branches and flung to the sidewalk. It wasn’t painfully cold, not quite, but it was certainly annoying. He wished he had a jacket, even though he knew that he would’ve gotten more annoyed with lugging around a jacket he didn’t really need than he would with the breeze. The breeze could be escaped, his only jacket could not.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking of escaping the breeze… There were a few cafés and restaurants scattered around the town, and it would probably be about noon by now. The prospect of getting something to eat that was completely his choice instead of having to break into the ramen noodles was very, very tempting.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>//<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Temptation won out over any reasoning he tried to come up with. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fiiiiine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he told himself as he handed over his payment in return for his slice of cake, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can eat, like, a salad or something when I get home. It’ll cancel out.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He knew that was a total lie, but he couldn’t really be bothered to care too much. He was gonna have cake for lunch and nobody was gonna stop him.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The café he had ended up in was relatively small and entirely sweets-themed, so there was no-one else inside for the lunch hour, aside from the worker behind the counter, flopped across it, forehead against the glass display, looking for all the world like a dead man. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You good?” Tubbo asked before he could think it through. He hid his embarrassment at speaking to a total stranger by shoving the cut edge of the cake into his mouth.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The person jumped, startled, lifting their head up to squint faintly at Tubbo. “Huh?”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo had </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>been wanting a response. He would’ve rather suffered through awkward silence than awkward conversation. Regardless, he swallowed and repeated, “You alright? You look kind of…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Deceased? Emotionally damaged? Zombified?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “...Pained.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” They replied, seemingly having none of the same inhibitions Tubbo did, “My friends and I were supposed to go exploring through that one haunted house down Miller Road, but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>one night</span>
  </em>
  <span> we all have time off to go is the same night we find out someone’s moved in again. I spent a hundred bucks on ghost hunting tools for </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, shit, I live in the old haunted house down Miller Road</span>
  </em>
  <span>.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haunted house?” He asked instead, feigning confusion. At the furrowed brows he received, he said, “I just moved here, I haven’t heard anything about a haunted house yet.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Weird, that’s usually the reason people move here. It’s this, uh- This old place in about that direction-” They pointed somewhere that was vaguely in the direction of Tubbo’s house, “-That this kid died at a few years back. Nobody ever stays in the house long, they say they always feel like they’re being watched, and that their shit goes missing, or that they find half their closet in the fireplace, or that anything electronic they try and use gets constantly unplugged after a few days. There’s also a cow in the woods that’s killed some guy, from what I heard, but I wouldn’t trust that rumor very much. People heard that the kid that died liked cows and ran with it, that’s my theory.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really think it’s haunted? Genuine curiosity, not condescending.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t, personally, but one of my friends does, and everyone else thought it’d be a fun place to hang out at, so we all decided to go.” A frustrated huff signaled the end of the conversation. Tubbo hummed and finished the last bite of his cake, folding the plastic fork in the paper plate as soon as he did. <br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for the cake and the talking!” He called as he walked backwards out the doors.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>//<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walk home was only interrupted once, and that was on the way out of the town, when Tubbo took a wrong turn and ended up right in front of a pet place, where he got very distracted by the dog sweaters and colorful fish tanks. He didn’t even have a pet and he definitely, definitely knew he shouldn’t get one, but, at the same time, just having a fish or something would be pretty cool…<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t make another impulse decision this time around, thankfully. The time spent in that place was far longer than he would’ve liked anyone to know (even though he knew he’d probably tell someone about it before the day ended). The sun was lower when he exited, and a quick look at his phone revealed the time to be 1:57, so he backtracked his way through town until he found the center, where there was a fountain with a statue of a koi fish and a few benches with elderly couples on them. From there, it was significantly easier to find his way home.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The driveway was extremely uneven, he noted, which was a problem he really didn’t know how to fix. He kept stumbling over rocks and small holes in the dirt, even splashing his pant legs with some nasty puddle water at one point around the wide circle. Next time he’d just cut through the grass.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now inside, he kicked off his shoes, cringing as his one wet sock left a slight footprint on the floor. The cleaning supplies were put on the counter in the kitchen, near the doorway, just in sight enough that he’d see them the next time he went in there. The book was retrieved, along with the pain catalog, and both were brought upstairs with him into his bedroom. He put the book on his desk and attempted to flop down onto the bed with the catalog.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” He hissed as soon as he did, something jabbing into his hip.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a bit of incredibly awkward fumbling around, he found the source of the problem: The flower cow was still in his pocket. It hadn’t broken amongst his squirming, somehow. After a moment of pondering, Tubbo put it on top of the book on the desk, reaching down and grabbing his phone charger while he was leaning over.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone had a singular Discord message from Wilbur and a few Instagram and Twitter notifications, the latter of which he swiped away to ignore. He opened the message at the same time that he flipped open the cover of the catalog, settling into a cross-legged position so he could glance between them both.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Orchid Touch, Pink Frost,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the words on his left read. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dude it’s like 1 in the afternoon are you seriously still asleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the words on his right read. The ones on the right were slightly more pressing, so he chose to go after those.<br/><br/><br/></span>
  <b>toob   Today at 2:27 PM<br/></b>
  <span>no i amn ot still asleep<br/></span>
  <span>i woke up @ 11 liek a total lejend<br/><br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>wiblur sood   Today at 2:28 PM<br/></b>
  <span>then why did u wait until now to respond, huh<br/><br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>toob   Today at 2:30 PM<br/></b>
  <span>bc i was out shopin<br/></span>
  <span>im  a responesibile adult<br/><br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>wiblur sood   Today at 2:30 PM<br/></b>
  <span>did u eat anything??<br/><br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>toob   Today at 2:31 PM<br/></b>
  <span>ye<br/></span>
  <span>chicken for brek<br/></span>
  <span>cake fro lunhc<br/></span>
  <span>:)<br/><br/></span>
  <b>wiblur sood started a call.<br/><br/><br/></b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Responsible adult, you said?” Wilbur asked without hesitation. Tubbo snorted, rolling his shoulders in slight discomfort. He really shouldn’t be hunched over his phone like this.<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you do any better.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A long, long pause, and then: “Touché.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you somewhere where I can turn on my camera? I gotta pick out wall colors, and I want your opinion while you’re here.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, just gimme a second.” There was some shuffling, a loud thump, a muttered, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, fuck”</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and then Wilbur hung up for a second before reconnecting. “Switched to my phone.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gotcha. Let me, uhhh… There.”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, catalog, classy. Have you looked through it yet? Got any ideas in mind?”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t looked through it, no, but I do have a few ideas. Like I said last night, I really like the idea of blues…”<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>//<br/><br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Downstairs in the kitchen, a figure a pink button-up shirt and tossed it into the fireplace, coating it in soot. Previous experience had taught him that watching someone burn their own clothes was easier achieved if they did not know it was there in the first place. </span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d get this fucker out of his house. He was betting a week tops before the kid was scurrying out with his hypothetical tail between his legs.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>you wanna leave a comment. you wanna leave a comment soooooo bad. you wanna be incredibly sexy and leave a comment. yes you doooooooooo</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>leave a comment if you are incredibly sexy /lh</p></blockquote></div></div>
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